Wilbur's worries
by Sarah Took
Summary: Wilbur Robinson. Lengthening scenes in Meet the Robinsons, with the emphasise on Wilbur and his thoughts and the worries he has...etc rating to be safe
1. Chapter 1

A small story type thing, focussing on Wilbur and basically just the movie scenes lengthened to make them about Wilbur and maybe I'll write a piece later about just Wilbur and his problems with his dad, or why he felt he needed to keep Lewis at a distance at the beginning and whether or not he realised that the frog girl was his mum, probably did with the whole "don't sass me, boy, I know karate" and I'll probably write more chapters in amongst assignments for uni.

**Disclaimer:** I have no claim over Meet the Robinsons characters or Disney, and am making no profit from this story, none whatsoever actually… must get a job.

"We make a great team" Lewis exclaimed as the rest of the Robinsons came hurrying up. Wilbur high-fived Lewis.

"Yeah. We did." He said, wondering if this was really his dad in the past, or if he'd picked up the wrong boy, because his relationship with his dad was not a 'great team', it was more a 'great disaster'. It was more a conflict of interests and a general distanced relationship. Just then his mum, Franny, seized him in one of the biggest hugs he'd ever had, it was also kind of unusual, as he hadn't been hugged since he was 9 and declared a vow of never being hugged. She kissed his cheeks all over and he was startled to see a tear trickle down her cheek.

"I'm fine," he said, though he wasn't sure if he'd ever be fine again, he'd nearly been eaten by a T-rex for heaven's sake. That one moment he was thrown in the air, he'd seen the horror etched on his family's faces and he'd flashed through some of his memories. Memories that seemed to only include birthday parties with his mum and the rest of the family, but not his dad. No, in all the memories that had flashed through his mind when he'd thought he was going to die, the only one that contained his dad was at Christmas at the age of 6 and his dad had blown up the garage containing his present; a blue bike. Suddenly he was blown off course by the excited blabber of Lewis, who had just blurted out "Mum". Confusion and terror seemed to seize him by the throat as his family gathered around them and wanted Lewis to be part of their family. This couldn't happen, if this happened, then he, Wilbur would not be there, none of it would be there, nothing would ever be as it was. He, Wilbur would cease to exist. With a quick hand Wilbur knocked Lewis' hat to the ground and stood there uncertainly, he knew he was in deep trouble now. His mum would probably never forgive him, and his dad? He had no idea; it was usually just a punishment his mum told his dad to give him. He relayed his story to his family and gave a small, unsure smile. And then, he made a mistake, he blurted out that he was never going to take Lewis to see his mother like he's promised, and the hurt and anger on Lewis' face was enough to cause Wilbur to feel a weird sort of piercing pain around his heart area. As Lewis ran off, Wilbur couldn't help but wonder if this is what made his Dad distant with him.

"Lewis." Wilbur shouted, as he ran after the younger boy, the one who he realised he wanted to be his friend. "Lewis!" Please, please come back. He silently begged. Finally he found him, just as he was reaching for the Bowler Hat Guy's hand.

"Lewis, no!" He yelled, but Lewis gave him a withering glare and accepted the help into the second time machine. Wilbur watched them fly away and sunk to his knees in the springy lawn, a single tear sliding down his cheek. "I've got to get him back."

Tell me what you think, in a small review, please. I'll probably post another chapter when I've written it. Sorry it's all about Wilbur and basically just the movie lengthened, and it's really bad, right. I'm not the best at this sort of stuff and it sounds good in my head, but then it never ever comes out right. Grrr, so annoying.




	2. another drabble

Okay, this is actually not a new chapter, they're all kind of mixed up different scenes and different type things, all drabbles, not all the same story, maybe I'll write one of those when I have more time, but I'm meant to be doing an assignment now for uni, but it's so boring and much too hard. :S

**Disclaimer:** If only they were all mine…imagine…unfortunately they are not, only the interpretation is mine…**warning: ** can be interpreted as slash, doesn't have to be – but there's a warning there. Tell me someone and I may write a slash fiction…because I am so utterly bored and there are hardly any stories at all, so get writing people. Please.

Wilbur's conscience finally caught up with him, at least, that's what he wanted to think, he wanted it to just be that he was only doing what he'd promised, because he didn't want to feel guilty. Wilbur glided the time machine down to the orphanage steps on the fateful night when Lewis was left there.

"I promised," He said, and felt Lewis leaning forward, he could feel the hot breath on his ear as Lewis stared intently out at his mum. Wilbur struggled to control his whirl of emotions as he wondered about what Lewis was going to do. If he even so much as saw his mother, would he convince her to keep him, would he want his life to be different. Wilbur knew he would, he wouldn't have wanted to go through as many interviews as Lewis had, he'd want to be wanted, that's what he wanted now, he wanted Lewis, his Dad to be correct, to want him, to love him and to include him. Just because he was disobedient at school, and at home, didn't mean he was any less smart than the average kid. Average wasn't good enough at home, you had to be extraordinary, but he'd never been given the chance. He hoped that Lewis wouldn't change the past, and he knew he was being selfish about this, but he didn't want to disappear again, it had been bad enough the first time.

Lewis reached out his hand to touch his mother, and a bundle of thoughts whirled through his head; if he touched her, he could make her not give him up, he could have the childhood and the mother he'd so often dreamed about, he wouldn't have to be alone anymore. But, then these thoughts were replaced with snapshots and memories; he saw Mrs Robinson hugging him, Wilbur grabbing his arm whilst running from the T-rex, Goob yabbering on about baseball, Bud taking him around the house and Carl serving them dinner. He heard their voices and saw their faces, and Wilbur's face remained etched there. If he changed the past, Wilbur wouldn't be, his family wouldn't be, and then he realised he already had a family, they were waiting for him. He backed up, and edged back down the stairs, much to the relief of Wilbur, who was watching from the time machine. It was this one sacrifice on Lewis' part that made Wilbur know how much he loved him. He opened the hatch and together they leaned forward to watch as Lewis was taken into the orphanage; it was one of the saddest things either had seen, and it was Lewis sighing, which snapped Wilbur into action as he transported them both to the present.

As Wilbur was getting ready to leave, Lewis came forward and wrapped both his arms around him. Caught off guard, Wilbur's mind reeled as he thought of all the times he'd dreamed of this moment, of this time, when his Dad would hold him, when he'd be safe in the arms of his hero, the one man on earth he looked up to – though, at the moment, his dad happened to be 12 years old and he tended to have to look down at him, but Wilbur accepted and returned the hug to Lewis, feeling the best he had for a long time. It was a little weird that Lewis had become his best friend and was also his Dad, but no weirder than the rest of the families quirks. Wilbur wished Lewis luck as he watched him enter the building and return to the science fair. Lewis' passing words of "see you later, Wilbur," had filled Wilbur with the best sense of well-being and hope, as he knew then that Lewis, his Dad, had liked him and did want him.

_Not too happy with the ending bit, but what can I do? It's written, my work is done for tonight – now on to the Uni assignment that is staring and glaring at me evilly from across the room. What is it about assignments and due dates, which gives us sarcastic and crazy moods to deal with them??? "Bake them cookies, Lucille" –see that is something I would not normally say, unless I was in a crazy procrastinating 'don't want to do assignment' mood. Sorry for the babble. ___


	3. another one

Lewis, now known as Cornelius, was sitting in his garden, head in his hands. _What had he done? What had he been thinking? _A few minutes before, he'd come running through the garden to this spot, kicking at the bushes and generally mumbling to himself. Before this display of anger, he had been at school, he had been waiting at the gates, waiting for Franny, waiting, because he wanted to walk her home and he was falling more and more in love with her. She'd exited the school building, with her arm slung around Sean from his class, they'd chatted together for a bit, and then, and this still made Cornelius' heart ache, she'd leaned forward and he'd leaned down, and they'd kissed, right there in plain view. Cornelius didn't care to remember much more from that moment on, but he was pretty sure he shouted and leapt the fence to swing a punch at Sean, connecting with his shoulder. Franny had yelled then, and Cornelius, with one last glance at her, had fled. He shuddered while he thought about it.

Wilbur sat in the invisible time machine, in the Robinsons garden, watching his Dad. He wondered if they were thinking the same things, and if Lewis missed him as much as he missed Lewis. He wondered if his Dad had had troubles with making friends and if he too was as lonely as Wilbur. Sure, Wilbur had Carl, and sometimes that was okay and that was all he needed to stave off loneliness, but it wasn't the same, Carl didn't have to go to school everyday and sit through boring class after boring class with no one to talk to and no one who understood him. It was a hellish existence at best, and when his tests kept coming back with A's, there was no praise, because it was expected – there seemed to be nothing he could do that would make his parents or his family notice him, look at him even. At least, that's what it felt like, they were all so smart, so they didn't really care if he was too, it was just normal for them. Wilbur now sat in the time machine, in Lewis' time, watching his Dad, and trying to know if it was normal, and if all teenagers went through this lonely heart aching type time where nothing seemed to motivate them.

Suddenly there was a movement in the garden, a distraction in the form of Franny, who came striding towards Cornelius, who quickly stood up. She shoved him in the chest, and began berating him, one hand on her hip.

"Who do you think you are? What on earth did you think you were doing?"

"Franny,..I'm.."

"Don't you play your 'sorry' card Cornelius. I have every right in the world to kiss whoever I please, and you were taking too long, goddamn you." Tears sprung from her eyes and she sniffed as she continued hitting him.

"Franny…" Cornelius said, grabbing hold of her arm as it came to hit him again.

"Let go of me," Franny hissed, twisting her arm, trying to get out of his grasp. It was now, or never, thought Cornelius, and he grabbed her other arm and pulled her closer. Franny stopped yelling, her breathing slowed.

"Cornelius?" She asked, uncertainly.

"I'm falling in love with you." He said, and he leaned forward, gathering her in his arms and kissed her. Franny seemed mildly surprised, and then she smiled against his kiss and snaked her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Wilbur turned his head, a little disturbed, though, it wasn't as if he hadn't seen it before. He couldn't help, but feel a little lost as he saw his Dad with someone, and he seemed to be happy enough at school. He had Franny. Wilbur had nothing. He started up the time machine and went back to his own time.

"Hi Wilbur, had a good time stealing the time machine again?" Carl asked as Wilbur wheeled the machine into the garage.

"Nobody saw me and I didn't leave it at any time, so nothing happened." Wilbur said, defensively, before shutting the garage door closely and heading to his room.

"You're late," His mum said as he passed her music room, "Dinner's in ten minutes."

"I'm not hungry." He said.

He lay across his bed, with his curtains shut and his hands over his eyes. But Wilbur Robinson didn't cry, he never cried, the pain he was feeling seemed to go right through him and he didn't even know why he felt so sad, it just made him numb. He just lay on his bed and stared up at his ceiling, feeling empty and hopelessly alone.

Later that night, when Wilbur was still awake, there was a soft knock on his door. Wilbur swung himself up to open his door.

"Hi." He said, when he saw Cornelius standing at the door.

"May I come in?" His Dad asked, and Wilbur stepped aside, opening his door wider.

His Dad sat on the edge of his bed, and Wilbur sat on his desk chair.

"What's up?" Wilbur asked, wondering if he was going to get busted for using the time machine, and if so, how had he found out, because Carl, in all their past together, had never once ratted him out. His Dad looked a little uncomfortable, yet extremely confident all at the same time, it caused a little irritation to Wilbur.

"We, your mother and I, are a little worried about you, Wilbur." Cornelius said, and Wilbur nodded slowly.

"You didn't come to dinner tonight." He stated and Wilbur immediately activated his defence mechanisms.

"I said I wasn't hungry, I just had a big lunch."

"I haven't seen you all day."

"I was out, I was busy." Wilbur rushed.

"Oh. Were you out visiting friends." Cornelius asked, relief starting to wash over him. Wilbur looked sceptical.

"You could say that. Yes I was visiting, but I was visiting just one friend. One best friend." Cornelius began to get up, but then his brain registered the last three words, and he turned to Wilbur, who had also stood up.

"You went and saw me, didn't you?" He asked, incredibility etching itself into his eyes.

"That, is an excellent question." Wilbur said, an unsure smile working its way across his face.

"Wilbur?" Cornelius asked, his tone demanding the truth. Wilbur sagged a little, and Cornelius saw his eyes turn away.

"Yes." Wilbur muttered, "But I didn't do anything, I just watched."

"What was I doing?" Cornelius questioned.

"You were sitting in your garden, and I thought you were lonely, like me, but you weren't for long, because mum came and you two made up." Wilbur blurted, not realising he'd given himself away.

Cornelius had noticed though.

"You're lonely?" He asked. Wilbur opened his mouth, but no words came out. He struggled with himself.

"I miss you." He whispered finally, and looked up in time to see a tear glide down his Dad's face, before he was engulfed in a hug.

"I missed you too." Cornelius whispered.

_You can't help me. _Wilbur couldn't help but think, a parent wasn't at school; he'd still have loneliness to stave off there.

_I can't understand what he's going through._ Cornelius thought, and it was this thought, which meant that he just held Wilbur close to him, well into the night. Wilbur, feeling warm and safe and secure, had closed his eyes for a minute and later on that night opened them to find he'd been tucked into bed. He hadn't been put to bed since he was 8 and fell asleep at one of his mum's concerts. Wilbur rolled over and went back to sleep, content for at least awhile.


	4. yet another

**N.B.** I wrote this too early in the morning – or too late at night, in other words. I am making it so, that in this story, because Wilbur went back and fixed things, his future went as planned and he didn't have to go back in time to save the present and future, and therefore, he has lived his life without time-travelling and can't remember any of what happened – which kind of explains why Cornelius remembers him at 13, but Wilbur doesn't remember him…or something to that affect. Actually have no idea. Hope you enjoy. 

Wilbur wakes with a gasp, drenched in a cold sweat. He stares at his hands, staring and staring, but not remembering.

It's been five consecutive nights now, of the same dream.

And Wilbur doesn't know what it means and what his dreams are trying to say; they're always the same.

He blinks slowly and lowers his hands, lying back down on his rumpled, twisted sheets. He thinks about calling for his Dad, but recently things haven't been going so well. His Dad has been avoiding him, or so it seems, almost like he hates him for being 13. Almost like he reminds his Dad of someone that his Dad loves, but missed for too long. It's scary the intensity in those eyes, as though they are trying to make him remember something too, but he just can't.

These dreams aren't scary, they're just weird and they make Wilbur uncomfortable.

He brings his hands back up in front of his face and studies them carefully, turning them this way and that. With these two hands he can paint the world over, or so his art teacher thought. With these hands, he can write the stories for the world, that's according to his English teacher. It's no surprise then, that in Science, his teacher is predicting his hands to be the ones that create the cure for the world. They're all wrong, saying those things because of who he is. Everyone knows who he is, and he can't hide from anyone.

Alone one afternoon, Wilbur had tested out Grandpa Bud's old keyboard in the attic – where he'd been avoiding people, where he'd been reading a book, where he'd gone so he didn't fall into anyone's sight, and by anyone, I mean 'his Dad'. His fingers had flown across the keys, letting out a dull clunk on the last night, but managing to raise a cloud of dust and a soft whisper on the others.

Plucking up courage, Wilbur had started playing, dim memories of piano attendance classes came swirling back to him, and he closed his eyes, letting his fingers explore the black and white keys.

By the end of the afternoon he was playing music that seemed to drift into his head.

It's his secret at the moment, Wilbur pulls his blankets over his head and tries to sleep again, hoping that he won't dream again, instead his thoughts drift back to school.

At school he has no place, yes he's the son of Robinson Industries, so he's expected to be great, and he's highly confident, so there's really no reason for him to be friendless, but there it is – he has no friends. He talks a little too much and he is still advertising for the superhero Captain Time Travel, his favourite top. Maybe he is a little too over the top for most people, or maybe he's just not normal enough for them, but he doesn't really mind, because he loves his family and wouldn't trade them in for the world, and he has Carl, and Carl is lots of fun when it comes to games and movies, because thankfully they both like the same sorts of things.

Wilbur pushes his blankets off and hops out of bed. He paces around his room for a full minute before sitting at his desk and pulling a notebook towards him. In it he draws a few musical notes – some up, some down, and then he draws. He draws his back garden and the bushes and shrubs and the landscape that they look out on. He sketches in the front steps of the house and he colours and colours, until his arms start to tire and his eyes start to blink more slowly. Very quietly, he edges back to his bed and curls up in it, falling asleep.

Wilbur is standing still, he is talking to someone, he senses loss, someone has just been hurt, someone gold. He holds his hands out towards this other boy, someone a little like his father in the pictures he has of him as a boy. He feels funny and looks down to see his legs disappearing, he clutches at his body and watches his hands disappear. And then there is nothing, there is nothing at all, he has disappeared from everything and now stands alone in a place full of mist and fog and just a grey emptiness. He looks down on his body just standing there and he can feel nothing, his body is just standing there, very still, very quiet. While Wilbur is watching, his body begins to fade.

_It fades slowly, yet surely, and he can do nothing but watch. Hands rise up in front of his eyes and they are see-through, they are disappearing…_

Wilbur wakes with a gasp, drenched in cold sweat. It's come again, this strange dream. He steadies his breathing and turns over, tucking his hands inside his blankets, and he starts to drift off to sleep, not talking or thinking about the dream again, because sometimes, sometimes Wilbur can't handle not knowing who he is, or what he should be, and sometimes, sometimes Wilbur really wishes, that, like in the dream, he too, could somehow just…_disappear._

**NB** what did you think? I wasn't really sure what else to put, and I know he's not a pianist, but seriously, look at his slender fingers, if he doesn't play the piano, can I make him play the bassoon? I wish I could draw, and I was wondering how hard it must be to have such big shoes to fill, so that's kind of why I wrote about his school, etc. Sorry if it's ooc. 


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